


In the Boot Room

by LinkWorshiper



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 13:51:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7620838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinkWorshiper/pseuds/LinkWorshiper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Thomas packs for America, Jimmy thinks of how foolish he's been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Boot Room

**Author's Note:**

> Written on a spur of the moment idea. Not edited. Hopefully enjoyable.

In the boot room, Jimmy almost said it. 

Thomas was packing Lord Grantham’s leathers for his trip to America, and Jimmy was incredibly jealous that it was his friend that got to accompany the Earl on the voyage. New York sounded so exciting – like London, but with much more style and daring-do. He wished he could come along, and thought of all mischief he could get up to with Thomas in such a wild place.  

Instead, Thomas worried he’d miss Ivy and all the others too much, and Jimmy lamented his boredom. He’d run out of games to mess about the other staff with, and without Thomas there, the distraction was pointless. Thomas, and all the dark mystery that he came wrapped up in, was Jimmy’s premiere inspiration for sideshow entertainment. He thought about it less – thought about _that_ less.    

Except now, all Jimmy would have was weeks on end to think  _only_ of those disparate secrets, which he’d swaddled in that same boredom and tucked away on the highest shelf where he couldn’t get at it so easily. Dangerous, exciting things he thought about more and more the longer he abstained. He was already teetering on the edge of the tallest stool as it was, yearning.

“I’m sure somethin’s just round the corner,” Thomas assured Jimmy in an effort to be supportive, though the comment only punched a hole through Jimmy’s gut. Something _was_ just round the corner: it was standing right in front of him – and had been since the day Jimmy had started working at Downton. But _that_ game had proved too harrowing, and Jimmy had been quick to backpeddle when he realized he had little chance of winning. 

Then, right in that moment, his chance to maybe give a bit of a wink and a nod to Thomas rose up, an easy chance that could be their secret, right there with no one any wiser. He stretched his fingers out, testing their reach. 

Yet for all his bravado, all Jimmy knew was how to let his innards blush, sometimes allowing a private smile to inch up the corner of his face. He knew what he’d say: he’d thought about it a thousand times already. The words were wet on his lips as he slid them against one another. 

But when he caught it, he quickly schooled his features, trying to keep any implication of his deepest desire quiet, still too unsure of himself to make the the first move. He’d fall back on sly invitation, hoping Thomas would hear him the way he used to all those years ago. 

“I wish it would get a move on,” Jimmy said casually, folding his hands on the table as he stared forward. Thomas’s elegant movements as he packed the valise lying between them swooped in and out of his vision like he was conducting music. Jimmy matched the allegory with his love of the piano and his skill with dancing, wondering how well their feet might match in a waltz. He was quick to bury it: “Or I might do somethin’ stupid.” 

It was much easier to think of ten thousand such things that could land him in just as much trouble. He knew his own capabilities: kicking things over was practically a fine art to him. He wondered why it was so hard to risk the one thing that would at least make him happy, toppled messes and all. 

Something in his face must have cued Thomas, though his response was almost tortuously friendly. “When I get back,” he started to say, though Jimmy had half tuned him out, finishing the sentence with suggestions like: “ _We’ll see to ourselves properly,”_  or, “ _I’ll be sure to give you everythin’ you’ve been missin’,”_  or better still, “ _I’ll kiss every inch of you twice over. An’ then you’ll do me the same.”_

Oh, what a salacious and wonderful game that would be. Certain to keep Jimmy on his toes – or off of them. 

But he heard none of those things. Thomas wanted his health and happiness, somehow determined that it would be found in some other empty romance with some other empty-headed nobody that meant nothing to Jimmy. He smiled softly to himself, flattening his chin against the knot of his bowtie: another swing and a miss. 

“Now come on,” Thomas was saying, drawing Jimmy out of his daydream. “Let’s go up and you can wish me luck.” 

God, how he wanted to wish Thomas so much more than luck: love, contentment – a deepening of the most satisfying relationship he’d ever owned. Still smiling softly at Thomas as they left the boot room, he was still turning it over in his mind.

In the boot room, he’d almost said it. 


End file.
